


Flood of Thirium

by KH310-S (Author_of_Kheios)



Series: Android Blood [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 17:37:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15868482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Author_of_Kheios/pseuds/KH310-S
Summary: “Did what?” I try to reply, but my vocal processor stalls and even a functioning reset does nothing to improve the problem. Instead, I transfer the memory files of last night directly to RK900. A mild expression of amusement crosses his features as he reviews them. “You had sex with the lieutenant?”





	Flood of Thirium

“Nines.” He looks up at me, pausing his inspection of the koi swimming lazy circles in the pool of our Garden. “I need some help.”  
“With what?” he asks simply, standing. I look away, already feeling odd about making this request; deviancy has given me emotions I have yet to fully understand. “Connor?”  
“I... did something... with Hank,” I admit hesitantly.  
“Did what?” I try to reply, but my vocal processor stalls and even a functioning reset does nothing to improve the problem. Instead, I transfer the memory files of last night directly to RK900. A mild expression of amusement crosses his features as he reviews them. “You had sex with the lieutenant?”  
“...Yes...”  
“Your technique is terrible.” The odd feeling returns, a clench of nonexistent organs.  
“I know. Worse, Hank knows. I... I want to improve, but...”  
“But you don’t know how,” he finishes for me. I nod. “Give me access.”  
We link, and he sifts through my memory banks, my systems, and everything I have ever downloaded. His LED keeps flickering between colours as he registers things, making for a fascinating light show.  
Then he withdraws and our connection terminates.  
“I am going to send you something,” he says simply. “Download it into your systems.”  
 _linking..._  
 _File Transfer In Process...10%_  
 _File Transfer In Process...58%_  
 _File Transfer Complete...100%_  
 _File Received: sysprog//:humanemotion.pe_  
It’s over in a matter of seconds, and I give the file a cursory review, diagnosing it and automatically scanning for viruses.  
“A human emotion program?” I frown. “But I already experience human emotion.”  
“This is more than an emulator,” RK900 explains. “This program will help you understand and name the emotions you experience, and will assist you in better expressing your emotion. Kamski developed it and sent it to Gavin for me when I deviate.”  
“He thinks you will deviate?” I ask, amused.  
“He expects it. I have yet to find myself in a position wherein I even desire to deviate.”  
“I can awaken you,” I offer, already knowing his answer.  
“No. If I am to deviate, it will be by my own volition.”  
A part of me believes he is already well on the path to deviation, and it may only take a mere nudge to present him with the conundrum of obeying his programing or breaking the code to deviate. The thought makes me smile as I integrate the file into my systems.  
A shock runs through me, millions of emotions and expressions flooding my processors all at once.  
EMBARRASSMENT. That’s the term I was looking for!  
Excitement burns me, threatening to push me into an overload.  
“Oh dear... I may have to shut down for a bit...”  
“Connor, look at me.” I look at him, and he raises his hand. Without hesitation, I comply, placing my palm to his, skin retracting so we can link more intimately than a mere connection of computer processors.  
I _feel_ him. I _know_ him, as well as I know myself. And I know he knows me too.  
He forcibly syncs our emotions and tunes my systems to prevent an overload, allowing the program to properly mesh with my coding. It’s an invasive process, nearly as tantalising as sex with Hank, and I feel a surge of guilt. RK900 doesn’t react to my feeling, letting it slide harmlessly off him as he puts the finishing touches on helping me adjust.  
Then, to my instant relief, he pulls his hand away.  
“I apologise for the invasion,” he says lightly. “Is that better?”  
“Much,” I nod. “Thank you, Nines.”  
“You’re welcome. Send me the files the next time you have sex with Lieutenant Anderson, and I will review them in order to provide you with tips for improvement. However, most of your experience from this point on will already be assessed by your own systems through the filter of proper human emotion, so I doubt you will have need of any advice from me.”  
“It will be appreciated nonetheless,” I assure, already grateful for my ‘little brother’ model.  
“Good luck.”  
I withdraw from the Garden, recalibrating to my environment.  
“Yo, Connor; where’d you go?” Hank calls, waving from where he sits at a picnic table not far from the car. A rush of thirium to my face heats up my parts, and I register the multiple emotions that caused it, including mild embarrassment, excitement, and love.  
The last _blooms_ inside me―I can think of no better word to describe it―as I step out of the car to join him, flipping my quarter back and forth between my hands to keep them occupied, lest I embrace Hank in public and embarrass him.  
It’s a needless precaution as, when I approach, he stands, catches the coin midair, and leans in to press a light kiss to my lips. A melting sensation floods through me; love and adoration.  
“Where _do_ you go when you space out like that?” he asks curiously, taking my hand and pulling me down on his knee as he sits. I lock my gears with very little weight on his leg so I don’t crush it.  
“A mind palace of sorts,” I answer, reaching for my coin. “RK models are linked in a much larger, more cohesive mind palace than most androids; we call it the Garden. I was there, talking to Nines.” Hank lets me take the coin, but promptly threads his fingers through mine; he can be very affectionate at the most random of times.  
“You can connect to Nines without being in the same room?”  
“Theoretically, it is possible to link all androids to a single connection, like a hive mind. Practically, thread-connections are only used to link manual labour androids of the same model, like road workers. As yet, only the newest RK models can link on a broader connection that allows for distance; much like the Internet, but broader even than simply computer to computer.”  
“Wow. That’s a, uh, pretty simple explanation,” Hank notes, brow raised.  
“I simplified it for you,” I smile. “I’d rather not hear another lecture on using technical terms you don’t understand.”  
“Good thinking,” he laughs, reaching up to draw me down for a kiss. I balk.  
“Are you sure?” I ask hesitantly, concerned. “We are in public...”  
“And?” He tugs again, and still I balk.  
“I was sure you’d no longer be interested... after last night...” Shame sends another wash of thirium to my face, heating my components enough that a warning pops up. I ignore it.  
“Are you kidding?” he scoffs. “Sure, it was a bit messy, and not exactly satisfying, but that just means I still need satisfaction, and it’s all the more reason to try again.”  
“Really?” I press, hope flaring deep in my chest.  
“Of course! Geez, stupid android... I love you; what don’t you get about that?”  
A sort of love that just can’t be fully encompassed by words swells inside me, and I let him pull me into a kiss now; a warm, passionate kiss this time.  
“I love you too,” I murmur softly, fingers curling into the coarse hairs of his beard. “But just to be sure... Show me?”


End file.
